Pony Paints a Picture
by Luke Skywaxer
Summary: Ponyboy gets tired of the teasing and decides to do something about it. No one is going to disrespect this hombre again!


Konrad moped his way over to the fiction press site and signed up for a new account. _It should not be a sad occasion,_ he told himself. _I should be happy about this._ But try as he might he just could not shake the terrible words he had just heard. Those words, he had _read_. And their echoes even now felt like hot, spiny barbs in his heart:

_"You don't belong here."_

_"i dont get this storey it confusses me"_

_"You should never post any fanfiction ever again."_

_"THIS IS NOT AN OUTSIDERS FANFIC."_

_"You, My good fellow, suck the big one. You're writing makes me think, 'What does this have to do with the OUTSIDERS, anyway?'"_

_"you write completly O.C. and you proably never even read the book."_

_"If by "Horseboy" you meant "Ponyboy," I believe he would never say the kinds of things you've forced from his_ _neighing mouth_."

_"Your story belongs in Fictionpress, dude. Get out of here. Go there, and please take your original story with you."_

Konrad sighed and began uploading his first story to the Fictionpress site. It was entitled:

**Horse goes to College**

And it went something like this (minus a few changes, of course):

* * *

When I turned sixteen I decided I'd painted enough watercolor ponies for the refrigerator door, and I was sick of people making fun of my name, Ponyboy. After all, it wasn't my fault my parents had a fight and named me that. So, I went down to the courthouse, asked for the proper forms and filled them out. When Darry and Soda got home I dangled the affidavit in front of them.

"What's this, Ponyboner?" said Soda.

"It's a legal document, Soda Ash," I said. "It says here you can't call me Ponyboy anymore, or any other such derivatives, cause that's not my name anymore. I changed it."

Darry snatched the paper away from me. "What! You can't change your name. What have you done?"

"Yes I can," I said, "In the state of Oklahoma the law says minors can change their own names without parental or guardian consent when they are sixteen."

He looked like he didn't believe me so I added, "It's true. Get used to it. My name's not Ponyboy anymore."

"Well, what is it, then?" asked Soda, sounding interested.

Darry answered for me. "It's…_Horse_…_man_" he said, looking mystified. His face had turned white, but he couldn't seem to tear his horrified eyes from the paper.

I snatched the certificate away and began walking to my bedroom door. We had built onto the house and I now had my own room where the back porch used to be. "I'll just be framing this and hanging it above my desk. Give me a few minutes before I start supper, okay?"

"Uh…wait. Horseman?" said Soda before I could reach the door knob.

I turned around, surprised to be addressed by my new name so soon. I was glad that they were already beginning to accept it.

"Yes?" I said.

"Can I get a horsey ride?"

He was laughing at me and it made my ears turn red. I could feel my face burning. I looked over at Darry for some help but somehow Soda's remark had dissolved some of the initial shock for him. He just showed teeth and burst out laughing, too. "Horsey ride," he said, shaking his head. He gave Soda a congratulatory slap on the back.

Rats! For some reason I had it figured there was nothing they could do with a name like Horseman, no teasing could possibly result. But I had been wrong, O so wrong! It all became clear in a flash. I ran to my room and slammed the door. Then I threw the certificate across the room and pounced on my bed. Of all the names I had to pick. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair. No one else ever got stuck with a stupid name 'cept me. It wasn't fair.

And then I straightened up and realized, Golly, it _was_ fair this time. This time I hadn't had it done _to_ me. This time I had done it to _myself_. My own self! That really ticked me off. So I punched myself in the chin a couple of times and told myself to smarten up.

Finally, I came to terms with my new identity. I wasn't a pony anymore, nor a boy, I reasoned. I was a horse, er, I mean a horseman. I had growed up, that was all. It just made sense.

I washed my face with some towlettes that were still in my pocket from a batch I swiped over at Susan's house the other day. I had been telling her all my woes and troubles, lying on her couch like a idiot while she sat in a chair listening, nodding, and writing stuff in her little notebook. I don't know why I even bother talking to Susan. Every time I break down and say something private to that girl, it always ends up in some book somewhere, but she just comes off so darned easy to trust! Finally, I pushed Susan out of my mind and wiped my face dry with a sleeve. I had enough to worry about already! Then I came out of the bedroom pretending to smile.

No one was around.

I started supper, wondering where everyone had gone. The silence in the house was eerie and I hurried through the meal preparations trying to think up clever retorts if anyone started teasing me about my new name.

Eventually there was a lot of commotion outside and I looked out to see the whole gang jumping out of the back of Steve's old Ford. They came in rowdy and smashing things as usual. When the dust settled and I looked around, I noticed the food was also gone. We sat around in the living room small talking and I kept waiting for the name-calling to begin, but strangely nothing happened. Finally, someone up and announced we were all going to the movies. No one said another word about my name, and I was relieved. I went to the movies with the guys, playing it cool and low profile. It wasn't until we all had snuck in and found our seats and I was surrounded by all my friends that I realized I had been had. The name of the movie just happened to be "_A Man Called Horse_." My ears got red as I sensed people sniggering all around me. They had all been planning my torture.

Well I wasn't up for it. So, I stood to my feet and kicked Two Bit in the jaw.

"Mercy," said Two Bit, holding the side of his face, "He kicks pretty hard for a ol' hoss."

"Nayyyy," I said, shaking my mane, "You'll get no mercy from mee-hee-hee-hee." And then I let them all have it, stomping on heads and kicking faces, and I even caught myself biting a finger or two that found their way into my mouth a couple of times.

Then Steve pounced on me and rode me around for a while, swatting my backside and hollering "Yeehaw," like a wild cowboy in an action Western. I tried throwing him, but he hung his spurs in and held on while the rest of the gang hooted around us. People turned around and gave us some dirty looks, but no ushers came. After a while I got tired and finally gave up. Steve patted my head and rubbed my nose in the dirt a little. He climbed off, still laughing.

"They have broken my will," I told myself as I lay on my side, panting, "but not my spirit." And that was important, because the spirit can revive the will once it has had a chance to rest a little. I lay still and planned my next move until my ribs stopped heaving and everyone settled down and began enjoying the movie again.

There are probably two things that saved me that first night from becoming a murderer. First, the tussle helped put some healthy respect back into my friends' heads for me. They moved aside and gave me room to sit down again. And second, that movie helped because the man they called Horse turned out to be pretty tough, and he became the chief or king or something of the Indians and no one could tame him. So then after we left the theater everyone was looking at me with renewed admiration. I could tell they were all wishing they'd've had my foresight.

Everyone coveted my name after that. And life was good.

* * *

Konrad checked his reviews the next day and discovered that he'd been kicked out of the Fictionpress club by the Administrators. He read the message with growing distress:

_"We regret to inform you that we've pulled your membership. We do not take kindly to rule-breakers, and you, you little twerp have deeply offended! Besides ripping off S.E. Hinton's characters, you've also gone and maligned her good name! Get out of here and take this derivative...'story,' or whatever you call it, with you! And, don't think this is the end, either, Mr. Konrad. In good conscience, we've also already sent your name to all of our sister sites to be black listed! You're as good as dead as a writer on the internet. Your career is finished!"_

Heart pounding, Konrad made a few hurried edits to his disheveled and pitiful story and then sent it to me with the plea to have it posted under my account in-good-standing on Fanfiction. Like a good friend does, I boldly put my name on it, with the condition he allow me to tell his sad story as a warning to the rest of us. Konrad reluctantly agreed and now manages to eke out a slightly less than meaningless existence sweeping cobwebs out of my attic. Occasionally he earns a crumb or two with one of his hair brained ideas, which I buy and try to make useful. You can blame him for each of my poorer stories. (Sorry, Konrad, old friend.)


End file.
